Feb 9, 2011

I don't know whether to be irritated or amused that Nate, at 2 1/2, walks around all day indiscriminately muttering "what the heck?" He certainly didn't learn it from me. Heck is not my pseudo-swear word of choice, that's for sure. I'm firmly in the what the crap camp. And if they haven't figured that out yet, I have failed as a mother.

One of my favorite moments from This American Life, was a mother describing how she was so mad at her children's bad behavior at the park one day, that she spent the entire walk home flipping them off behind their backs. I was thinking about that just today when Sam and Nate pulled out all the stops at the craft store. The highlight was when they took the shopping cart for a joy ride right into a ladder, knocking the cart over and sending Nate and all of our stuff flying. This was after I found them in a garden display, with Sam sitting on a decorative metal bike and Nate reclining in a lounge chair while petting a ceramic cat. For the rest of the time, Nate ran through the store squealing with seemingly profound glee, while Sam grabbed anything he could and played 100 questions with each item (What's this mom? Is it on sale? Do you have a coupon for it? Is it just for moms? ). The thread aisle was a disaster, figuratively, and also literally, by the time we were done. When we got to the checkout counter, they picked up every kind of candy on display (conveniently located right at their level), and begged can I have this pleeeeeeease? After tiring of that game, they literally ran around and around in circles. I'm positive that every person in that store had taken a vow of celibacy by the time we left, including me.

The bank is another favorite place of theirs, and thanks to drive-up tellers, we almost never go inside. But when we do, those kids can go from perfect calm to complete chaos in 6 seconds flat. I know this because we recently had one of those rare inside-the-bank visits, and I timed it.

I've often thought that if I were to rob a bank, I would definitely take my kids. Not only would they be too busy not paying attention to me to even notice, they would also be the perfect distraction. All I would have to do is kneel down and look them eye right before walking in, and say, "I need you to be on your very best behavior, OK?" They would nod with their big bambi eyes, and then immediately cause such a scene of pandemonium that no one would notice the frumpy mom slipping into the vault/holding up the teller. Except for the security cameras, it's fool-proof.

For the longest time, my kids thought that being a burglar or a bank robber was absolutely the worst kind of evil there was. They couldn't imagine anything worse than just taking something that didn't belong to you-- a testament of their complete abhorrence to sharing. So, when we go into the bank or the craft store and I bribe them plead with them to please, please be good, and then we end up being some one's form of birth control for the day, it makes sense when they indignantly protest, "But we were being good!" After all, according to them, robbing a bank is about as bad as you can get. And they certainly weren't doing that. Just hopping in display windows and taking shopping carts on kamikaze rides. Good, clean, harmless, chaos.

Feb 1, 2011

I tried so hard to whip out this post in less than 20 minutes, but do you know how impossible it is to get 20 uninterrupted minutes in my house? So this is more of a meandering, 5 minutes here, 12 minutes there, spread over 2 days kind of a non-speed blog. But it's still pretty incoherent and random, so mission accomplished!

I'm very close to being finished with something I've been planning/thinking about/half-heartedly working on for over 3 years. I hope our All-New Family Chore Chart will be more successful than our First Family Chore Chart, on which I misspelled the word vacuum, and we never, ever used. Maybe because we realized we really don't like to do chores after all. Oh, crap.

Today at the Dentist office, I found the "yes or no" response options to some of the health questions to be profoundly inadequate. As in, "Have you ever experienced exhaustion or tension? Yes or No." As a parent, I'd like to suggest that "HOLY CRAP, YES or I just come here for the Nitrous Oxide" would be much better answers. I choose all of the above.

While signing Mia out of school today, should I have been alarmed that someone else signed their kid out and put "heaven" for the destination? Maybe they were going to the dentist, and were thinking of the nitrous too.

Did I mention that I'm playing in a Women's 30+ Indoor Soccer League? I pretty much suck, but I did manage to knee another girl in the head a few weeks ago and still have a pretty big bruise. So, you know... cool.

I won my first blog contest! And it was one I really, really actually wanted to win too! So I just have to put in a shameless plug for two wonderful people, Aimee and Scott of PopRocks Design, and their new line of retro/funky mormon decor. If the Deseret Books catalog makes you want to cry, and not in a good way, you are going to love their Etsy shop. And it's not just mormon stuff, so, seriously, check it out!

Due to the disintegration of his sleeping habits, Nate has officially been stripped of the Favorite Child status. I'm currently accepting applications for a replacement in-house, but it looks like we're going to have to outsource. If you have a child who you think qualifies to be my favorite, feel free to submit their resume. All children who put themselves to bed, make their own meals, and who love chore charts will be considered.

The other night at dinner, Sam posed an interesting question: "What would you rather be, a frozen pig, or a talking fish bone? You know, instead of being a mom." Tough question, but I'm going to have to go with talking fish bone. And you?

Recently, a situation in the locker room at the swim center led to a fun discussion about how sometimes in locker rooms we see some weird, and possibly naked, things and it's not a big deal. And that was when Mia interjected with: Well, congratulations to me on seeing my first old lady scrubbing her bum!

She just turned eight. I swear kids are growing up so much faster these days.